


Meet You All the Way

by naughtical_nbd



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ace Flavor: Sex-favorable, Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Communication Struggles, Choking, Discussions of Asexuality, Fingerfucking, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, Lord They Are Trying, M/M, Penetration, Pre-Canon, Somehow both:, Trans Male Character, Under-negotiated Kink, and Over-Negotiated Kink, author is ace & trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-01 02:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21332167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naughtical_nbd/pseuds/naughtical_nbd
Summary: “Thanks for doing this,” says Jon, quietly, and sounding so sheepish that Tim has to pause halfway through rolling the condom on and wrestle his brain back into the realm of complex thought, in order to parse this sudden, new dimension of whatever the hell it is they’re doing. Which is sex, definitely, but also a totally unique experience in comparison to the hundred-odd times Tim’s done it before.“I’m not, you know, fucking you out of charity,” he says, aware that might be a little too harsh for the moment but unable to phrase things any better. “I mean, you get that, right?”
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 27
Kudos: 638





	Meet You All the Way

**Author's Note:**

> Sex is messy, and awkward, and I maintain Tim is only marginally better at negotiating it than Jon. They still manage to have a good time.
> 
> Trans guy Jon havin' sex in this one; used "cock" and "entrance" to describe his equipment. Just a heads up.

“Thanks for doing this,” says Jon, quietly, and sounding so sheepish that Tim has to pause halfway through rolling the condom on and wrestle his brain back into the realm of complex thought, in order to parse this sudden, new dimension of whatever the hell it is they’re doing. Which is sex, definitely, but also a totally unique experience in comparison to the hundred-odd times Tim’s done it before.  
  
“I’m not, you know, fucking you out of charity,” he says, aware that might be a little too harsh for the moment but unable to phrase things any better. “I mean, you get that, right?” 

“What? Yeah, no- I don’t know,” says Jon, propping himself up on one elbow. He’s wearing nothing but a plain white undershirt, which should not have any sex appeal, except that it’s a bit too tight and hiked up almost to his chest and Tim has some sort of inexplicable weakness for the treasure trail he has going on. 

“You realize you just gave every possible response to my question,” Tim points out after a beat of appreciative silence. 

“Oh.” Jon’s brows knit briefly. “I suppose- I mean, yes, I know we’re not here because of your commitment to benevolent humanitarianism, the existence of that commitment notwithstanding.”  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Tim says, sitting back on his heels and feeling a bit stupid that his hard-on hasn’t even flagged yet even though the man in his bed is using words like _ humanitarianism. _ “Nearly all my blood’s left my brain by now, what’s your point?” 

Jon gives him an appraising glance, and then sighs and gestures him closer. “It’s not important.”  
  
“Well you can still _ talk, _” Tim mutters, shuffling over and nudging to make room between Jon’s thighs. “I just meant, like, I’m here because I want to be, you’re not taking valuable time out of my day.” 

“Yes, of course,” Jon says, in that patronizing professorial tone that Tim still refuses to admit he might have a bit of a kink for. He tries to look unimpressed, until Jon impatiently tugs at his wrist and he leans down over him, sighing. “You don’t have to thank me, is all.”  
  
Jon avoids his eyes, the way he always does when anyone’s this close to him. “Well I know this isn’t how you’d normally go about things- or how most people would, I’d imagine. I’m trying to say that I appreciate your, ah, patience.”  
  
“Fucking hell,” Tim says through his teeth, since through the tail end of that statement Jon is also using his free hand to guide Tim’s cock to his entrance. Although- “Wait,” he says when Jon shows no indication of pausing there. “I’ve like, _ barely _ fingered you, are you sure we shouldn’t-?”  
  
“Hm? No, this is fine, it’s fine, go on.”  
  
“Uh.” He still waits, trying to at least tease a little, give some idea of what Jon’s getting himself into, until the other man positively glares at him. “Honestly, I said it’s fine.”  
  
“Okay…” Tim can’t help sounding wary, and when he braces himself on Jon’s hip and pushes inside, he’s not surprised to see Jon’s face twist up in discomfort. “ _ See? _ I told you, it’s- God, do you want me to pull out, or-”  
  
“No no no no, don’t move,” Jon says all in one thin breath, which, well. He’s so tight that Tim isn’t sure he’d have an easy time of moving if he tried. 

“Sorry,” Tim says, even though he was the one trying to be careful. He _ hates _ hurting people on accident, to the point that there’s a weird discordant clash between the pleasure humming low throughout his body and the unease sitting at the back of his throat. He forces himself to sound firm when he says, “Hey- _ don’t _ tell me you’re gonna be fine with something if you’re not.” 

“I _ am _ fine with- Look, it’s all right, come here.” Before Tim can react Jon gets one leg around his waist, shifts their whole bodies closer and takes the entire length of him at once. It’s a _ lot, _ and Tim curses quietly, his face pressed into the hollow of Jon’s neck. Clenching his jaw, he tries to push himself back up, but Jon is apparently working through something, clutching Tim’s shoulders like a vise.  
  
“I’m _ serious, _ ” Tim groans next to his ear. “If you wanted me to ahh- _ actually _ hurt you, we should have at least talked about it-”  
  
“Okay, okay, okay, I- sorry, it wasn’t like that,” Jon says, sounding just as disoriented, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. “Didn’t realize it had been so long.”  
  
“When was the last time you got fucked?” asks Tim, trying to distract himself from how much he already wants to start moving.  
  
“Wh- The other day, but that was- I’ve got, you know, a- a toy collection-? And they’re not all quite as- thick- _ ah _ .”  
  
Tim curses again under his breath. They probably _ both _ felt his cock twitch at the thought of Jon railing himself at home with a dildo carefully selected from his goddamn stockpile of them. He wonders if it was on the bed or in the shower, or maybe stretched out all leisurely on the sofa, soft noises in the back of his throat as he fucks himself, the silicone shaft of a toy buried in-

“Can I kiss you, is that good?” He asks in a rush, because he needs _ something _ more soon or he feels like he might catch on fire. 

Jon blinks. “Yes, yeah, I- I’d like that.” 

“Great,” Tim says nonsensically, and then there are a few blissful minutes of no words and barely any thought. Jon has proven himself extremely tactile in bed and kissing is no exception, enough that Tim can let himself get refreshingly overwhelmed with it. At some point he registers Jon moving beneath him, a small, inviting tilt of his hips, and so starts up a steady rhythm thrusting in to match him, working up until they’re breathing too hard to kiss any longer. 

It’s good, better than it probably has any right to be, although Tim is starting to get cramped from holding himself up at the same low angle. “Can I, uh,” he starts, trying to find the right words. “Can I go a bit harder, maybe?”  
  
“Oh, you could go plenty harder,” Jon replies too quickly, and Tim _ has _ to sit up and look at him, suppressing a laugh. He’s blushing, and already covering his face with one hand. “God, I mean- Whatever you like, really,” he mumbles into his palm. 

Tim is suddenly dizzy with the desire to kiss him. It sets off a little alarm bell in the back of his head, but he ignores it, brushes his lips across Jon’s knuckles instead, and then moves back upright onto his knees. “Hang on.” When he pulls out, Jon makes a muffled noise that sounds like he just sat on a tack. “You good?” Tim checks in just in case.  
  
“Oh, brilliant,” says Jon, and does a tipsy little flourish with his wrist in Tim’s direction. 

Tim bites his lip and slides a hand up under one of his partner’s thighs. “Can you come up, a little bit, or-”  
  
“Here.” Jon twists around to grab the pillow from above him, and then arches up to shove it underneath himself. “Better?” 

Tim is already lining up to take him again, hitching Jon’s thighs around his waist. He drags the head of his length against Jon’s entrance first, just to make a point, and then rubs teasingly against his partner’s own cock, swollen hard and flushed in the thatch of dark curls surrounding it. “I dunno, you tell me.”

“Maybe if you’d- Look, this is some impressive restraint you’re showing, but I’d remind you that there's no need to impress me,” Jon responds curtly, and Tim can’t fight down the grin when he hears the note of strain in his voice.  
  
“I might try anyway,” he says, and this time when he slides in it’s hot and slick and easy. Tim almost trembles with pleasure. “God, _ fuck. _ You like that?”

This time instead of tensing up when Tim enters him, he can watch Jon visibly relax, dropping his head back down on the mattress with a deep, satisfied sigh. It’s that which makes Tim decide to start slow again, drawing back to thrust into him at a luxurious, unhurried pace. It takes restraint, and his arms shake slightly with the effort, but Jon leans up to kiss him again, his mouth open and wanting, and the coursing warmth that blossoms low in his gut is nearly enough to push Tim over the edge right then. He breaks the kiss, surprised, and the soft noise of loss from Jon worms its way into a tight knot in his chest. At least, until Jon says with a jarring edge to his voice, “I _ thought _ you said you wanted to go harder.” 

That shakes him out of it. Tim grunts, shoves one hand under Jon’s ass and hikes him in closer while he snaps his hips down hard, driving his cock in as far as he can go with some solid force. Without leaving any time to recover, he does it again, digging in with his fingernails, relishing the sound of Jon’s strangled cry. Crowding forward, he keeps going, until he’s well and truly pounding Jon into the mattress, pinning him down with one of his legs bent all the way to his chest. Tim loves fucking like this, messy and tangled up together, moving with a near desperation. There’s a special exhilaration he gets from working a partner up to an absolute train wreck of an orgasm, complete with shouting and sometimes even tears. He can’t lie and say he’s not hoping for something similar from Jon; for some reason the idea turns him on wildly, someone that hell-bent on maintaining composure breaking down because Tim fucked him so well.  
  
He looks close to it, too, one hand clenched in a death grip around Tim’s wrist and the other twisted up in the fitted sheet, his back arched and tense, eyes clenched shut and mouth open, panting. Tim wants to kiss him. Tim wants to fuck his mouth next, bite his curved lips until they’re swollen and then push his cock between them, grab a fistful of the black hair fanned out around his head and coax him closer until he can feel Jon’s nose press against his belly and- 

“_ Now, _ ” Jon is saying. “Do it, Tim, _ do it now, _ ” and god, he’d almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. Why Jon had approached him, awkward and fidgety as they both headed out from the research office for lunch, and asked far too stiffly if he’d like to have sex, sometime. He wasn’t out of bounds; Tim had hit on him quite shamelessly at the holiday party after a few drinks, and to be fair Jon had never officially reneged his offer, simply beat a very swift retreat to the balcony with the other smokers where he knew Tim wouldn’t follow. And now he was taking him up on it, and Tim couldn’t possibly be persuaded to refuse once he found out why.  
  
_ You want me to choke you? _ He’d asked, just to be absolutely clear, because he was already trying to tamp down his own excitement at the prospect. _ I can’t very well do it to myself, _ Jon had replied, as though it were painfully evident. Of course he’d gone on to explain that normally he wouldn’t bother with involving someone else, and this would likely be an odd arrangement compared to most of Tim’s other trysts, but. Some desires are difficult to fulfill without a partner. 

Tim slows down first. If he didn’t know better, he would say the noise Jon makes is a whine of disappointment, but then he’s certain the man is too dignified for something like that. He’s only adjusting his weight, though, so he can cover Jon’s throat with his hand, pushing right up against his jaw with the edge of his fingers. At first Tim adds only the slightest pressure, experimental; he’s done this a few times before, and in the process has come to learn that not everyone who asks for choking really wants to be _ choked out. _ Jon, however, practically writhes with impatience. “Are you going to get on with it, or-” 

Tim thrusts into him again, this time putting more of his weight on the hand around Jon’s neck. “Demanding, aren’t you,” he huffs, gripping Jon’s thigh with his nails and beginning to fuck him again in earnest. This time he’s less hesitant with the pressure, although he’s careful to not lean his whole weight into the motion. For a second he wonders hazily if even _ this _ isn’t enough, but then he notices Jon sliding a hand between them to touch himself, and Tim can’t help the sigh that escapes him. “Oh, _ there _ we go, yeah?” 

Even though he’s struggling to breathe, Jon still manages to look as annoyed as he has every other time Tim’s spoken to him in a lover’s voice like that- but for all his bluster, he still hasn’t actually told Tim to _ stop. _ He can feel Jon’s fingers brush against the slide of his dick, gathering some of the slickness to rub himself, and the clenching around him that follows is enough to knock Tim’s breath out of him. The only sound left in the room is the crude slap of skin on skin from where their bodies join and the occasional noise of stifled effort from Tim, straining to keep up the pace while watching Jon’s face flush darker and darker, feeling his throat work under his palm. 

“God,” Tim forces out finally, his voice coming rough and deep, “I’m f- I’m fucking close, are y-” He doesn’t have to finish, because Jon does first. His whole body jerks in Tim’s hold, once, then twice, and then he’s whacking Tim very unceremoniously on the bicep like they’d agreed on, unnecessary because Tim is already letting up, but comforting nonetheless. “Oh, that’s it,” Tim says in a rush. “Gonna come for me?” 

Jon draws in a shuddering breath, then to Tim’s absolute endearment, holds it for a second before letting go, still grinding his thumb down mercilessly on his cock. “Don’t stop,” is the first thing he grits out, his voice wrecked. 

“I’ve got you,” Tim says, then feels weirdly embarrassed by it, although the discomfort is quickly swept away by pleasure as he fucks Jon through his orgasm, pressing his hot, sweaty cheek against Jon’s trembling calf. The moment seems to last an hour, ages, until Tim is completely saturated with desire. 

“Okay,” Jon gasps eventually, sagging into the mattress. “Okay, that’s- Give me a second.” 

“What d’you-”  
  
“Come here,” he clarifies, and by now Tim has worked out that _ come here _ from Jon means he wants not just to be held but completely covered, enveloped. He lets Jon lower his leg back down to the mattress, slow and stiff after being locked in position for a while, but doesn’t bother pulling out as he moves forward, impulsively mouthing at Jon’s collarbone, making him draw in a sharp breath. 

“Can I keep going, or…” Tim trails off uncertainly. 

“Wuh? Yeah, just- A minute, give me a minute,” Jon says, low and raspy. 

Tim moves up to his jawline, tasting the salt there. “No, I know, I just-” 

“Right. You didn’t… Right.” 

He tilts his head to give Tim more access, surprising him. This is rapidly becoming more intimate than what Tim would characterize as a ‘standard’ hookup, when from the start he’d expected the opposite, but he kisses the soft spot beneath Jon’s ear obligingly, moves a little further down and starts working a light bruise into the skin to try and distract himself from his cock still buried to the hilt inside his partner, throbbing for attention. 

“Thank you,” Jon says after a moment of hazy quiet, a dreamy quality to his voice this time that makes Tim hesitate to correct him.  
  
“Mm? You’re welcome, I s’pose,” Tim says instead against his skin. “Not that I haven’t- _ nh. _ Enjoyed myself so far.” He can’t help the quiet grunt as Jon adjusts, the warmth around his shaft tightening briefly. Admittedly there is something deeply arousing about the soft tease of simply lying here after a round like _ that, _ unsatisfied but still content, for the time being. “Was it good? For you? I mean it bloody well looked like it, but-” 

Jon turns and kisses him, guiding Tim into it with one hand grasping his chin. It’s honestly an _ obnoxious _move, presumptuous in its audacity, and Tim would be indignant if he wasn’t so desperately turned on by it. He kisses back, catching Jon’s lips with his teeth the way he’d wanted to earlier, and to his shock Jon responds by nipping him so hard Tim can feel the soreness blossom right away. He gasps, involuntary, drawing back. “Oh,” Jon says, quiet into the few centimeters of space between them. “Sorry, too much-?” 

The kiss Tim gives him in response is ravenous, devoid of caution, as is what Tim does next, scooping him up with an arm shoved under his shoulders, hauling the both of them upright, wedging his knees underneath so that Jon is sat precariously on his lap. Jon gives a clipped shout of surprise at being maneuvered so thoroughly, no choice but to clutch at Tim for purchase, but it’s nothing compared to the noise he makes when gravity drives him back down on Tim’s cock, his nails biting into Tim’s shoulders and head snapped back like a reflex. Tim groans, pressing close and rocking his hips, while Jon takes his sharp nails and _ drags. _

“Oh, _ fuck, _” Tim hisses into his chest, face pressed into the rumpled cotton fabric of his undershirt. There is a precarious, wobbly moment while they both struggle to find balance with this new position, and then Tim is half being ridden, half fucking up into Jon, whose hand is back working between his legs, breathing more ragged than ever. It’s exhausting, and Tim can feel the heat radiating from the both of them, and he’s already seeing stars by the time Jon gets a good fistful of his curls. 

“Don’t,” Jon says, showing his teeth, “_ manhandle _ me like that.” Then he yanks, harsh, and maybe says something else, except Tim is coming so hard he can barely hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. He knows he’s making an obscene amount of noise, but he can’t help it, feels like it’s being wrung out of him along with all the sensation. Jon lets go of his hair, likely in surprise, and he practically whimpers in disappointment, still thrusting shallowly, shaking through the end of his climax.

Tim returns to himself slowly, dazed and discomposed, because sure, he likes his hair pulled, but he’s never come straight from that before, let alone something this intense. Jon is still riding him with a steely determination, and it’s approaching the threshold of overstimulation between enjoyment and discomfort. “Oh,” he says, still reeling, and then, “_ God, _ oh my god, fuck, Jon, h-hold up.” 

“Wait,” Jon says, breathy, his eyes unfocused. “Wait, just- Just give m-” 

_ “Ah- _ No, I can’t- _ ” _Tim grabs his hip to still him, easing his softening cock out, hissing at the sensitivity. “That- That’s too much.” 

Jon makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat but doesn’t protest further, tipping backwards awkwardly off of Tim’s lap to give him room to get up and go bin the condom. Tim does it on a newborn deer’s legs, catching himself on the bedframe not once but twice during the trip. “Fuck’s sake,” he grunts, collapsing back on the bed. “That… took it out of me.” 

“I suppose you’re spent, then,” Jon says, sounding surprisingly morose. 

Tim rolls to look at him. “I- What, did you need to go again?” 

Jon looks at the ceiling and chews his lower lip. 

“... Really?” Tim blinks at him. 

“I was _ almost there, _ okay?” He snaps, shrinking in on himself. “It’s fine though, it’s not like- It’s not-”

“Okay,” Tim says, interrupting him, shifting closer. “I don’t mind! I don’t- It’s okay, really, sometimes once isn’t enough.” 

Jon curls up even further, grumbling. “I’m just on these shots, and for the next week or so afterwards… It’s a pain in the arse, really, I’m not _ interested _ in spending hours just pulling off, but-” 

“Can I touch you?” Tim asks, reaching out. “Promise I’m just as good with my hands.” 

That makes him roll his eyes, a smile twitching across his face like an involuntary response. “Yeah. All right, yes, I should- I should quit complaining, it’s silly.” 

“Not really,” Tim says, tucking Jon carefully up against him and sliding a hand over his shoulder, stroking down his side. “I- Listen, sorry for, er. For manhandling you, if you really didn’t want it, we should have-” 

“Talked more,” Jon interrupts him, expression unreadable. “Beforehand. Yes, we should have.” 

“Yeah,” Tim says, petting over his hip and the small curve of his ass. “You still want me to-”  
  
“I do,” Jon replies, and leans in to kiss him, surprisingly chaste this time. “If, you don’t mind.” 

“I want to, in fact,” Tim says, and trails his fingers down to press gently between Jon’s thighs. “You think you could talk to me a bit more, though?” 

“Mm,” Jon says, closing his eyes briefly. “Mhm, yes, I-I’ll try. I’m not very… Good at it, is the thing.” 

“Good at what?” He grinds the heel of his palm experimentally against Jon’s cock, still hard although the slickness between his legs is starting to dry warm and sticky. 

“Sex, talking, any of it- Ah, d-don’t do that.” 

Tim draws his hand back, frowning. “Hurts?”

“Yeah.” 

“D’you want me to finger you?”  
  
“Y-yes, that might be better.” This time, when Tim trails his hand back down Jon makes room for him, spreading out on his back. Obligingly, Tim shifts to lean over him, stroking carefully against his entrance with his fingers flat until he can feel the warm tension creep back into his partner’s body. He’s still wet enough that Tim can slide two fingers in easily, humming in appreciation at Jon’s soft and quiet _ “Oh.” _

For a while, things are hushed; Tim moves slowly inside him, crooking his fingers to find the right spot for pressure. When Jon arches into his touch with a gasp, Tim kisses him, swallows his shallow breaths and whispered cursing. When Jon asks for more he does it like he’s bashful, leaning in and murmuring in Tim’s ear, red-faced, as though Tim hadn’t fucked his lights out not twenty minutes ago. “Please,” he adds belatedly, subdued, and Tim sinks three fingers into him up to the knuckle, doesn’t kiss him this time, just to hear him moan. 

After a while his palm is slick enough for Jon to rut against it without any friction, and Tim stops moving altogether, letting Jon press his face into the crook of his neck and fuck himself on Tim’s hand. When the noises of enjoyment begin to sound a lot more like frustration, however, he presses in and down, coaxing Jon to still his movement. “Hey. Hey, what’s going on?”  
  
Jon huffs, a hot gust against his shoulder. “I’m nearly- I just need- Oh, Christ, look, could you do it again?” 

Tim sits up to look at him, brow furrowed. “Do it agai-? Oh. _ Oh, _ yeah. Yeah, why didn’t you say so?” 

“I _ am _ saying so,” Jon grumbles, although his moodiness is quickly undercut with a bitten-off groan as Tim withdraws his fingers so he can push up onto his knees. 

“Are you good?” Tim asks, fixing him with a serious look. 

Jon squints at him in confusion. “Am I goo-?” 

“Are you ready,” he clarifies.  
  
“Oh.” Jon nods as briskly as he can while still flat on his back, wets his lips unconsciously. “Yeah. Yes.” 

“Right,” Tim says, and pins him to the bed by his throat, leaning plenty of weight into it this time, since it’s his left hand. Jon’s eyes flutter shut, and Tim reaches down to push three fingers into him again, fucking him with a short, quick rhythm. He can _ feel _ the new rush of wetness this time when Jon’s chest heaves for breath he can’t draw, and it’s all he can do to go faster, driving his palm against Jon’s cock and his fingers in deep against that sweet spot he found earlier. This time, when Jon comes he clenches down so hard around Tim’s fingers he couldn’t withdraw them if he wanted to, gasping for air the moment Tim lets up on him. He’s louder, too, hoarse and drawn out cries coming along with the spasms Tim does his best to work him through, pinning his hips down and drawing out with slow, careful motions. Finally, Jon relaxes, boneless, one wrist across his face. “Oh, good lord, I’m done,” he says, wheezing faintly. 

Tim realizes all of a sudden that _ he’s _ forgotten to breathe for the past minute or so, intent on his task as he was. Then he has to struggle not to laugh, because Jon would look like a duchess collapsed on a fainting couch if he had more clothes on and weren’t so sweaty. As it is, he looks thoroughly fucked out, which Tim informs him, unable to keep the mirth from his voice.  
  
_ “Good,” _ is all he mutters in response. “That _ was _ the idea, after all.” 

Tim slumps down next to him, tugging over the one pillow they haven’t humped on. “That was really fucking hot, by the way,” he adds, staring up at the ceiling. “Almost got me up again.” 

“_ Je_sus,” Jon says. “Really? Just- watching me?” 

“Yeah.” Tim turns to look at him, and Jon shifts to mirror his movement. “Thanks for- talking more, by the way. You're not bad at it. Helps me know what you like."  
  
"Oh." And if Tim isn't completely mistaken, Jon flushes at the compliment. "You- You're welcome. It was... I enjoyed it."   
  
"What did you think about?" Tim asks, suddenly curious. "You had your eyes closed, most of the time. Didn’t figure you were thinking about _ me. _” 

Ducking his head in slight chagrin, Jon clears his throat. “Well, no. I don’t, really, do that- Okay. So- Don’t laugh.” 

“I’m… Definitely not going to laugh,” says Tim, as sincerely as he can. 

“Mostly I think about… Romance novels?” Jon flutters a hand nervously in front of him, quickly clarifying. “Not- _ Not _ the paperback kind, the smutty ones, but more the, er, I don’t know, Jane Austen style, that sort of thing, it’s- You’re smiling.” He scowls. “ _ Timothy. _” 

“_ Jonathan, _” he shoots back, still grinning. “I’m not laughing, am I?” 

“Mm-hm.” Jon glares, lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t approve of the way you’re smiling, though.” 

“Tough.” Tim reaches out and pinches him lightly on the forearm, just to watch him squirm. He can’t stop smiling. “Didn’t know you liked romance novels, Jonathan.” 

“Oh, _ stop _ it,” Jon grouses, practically glowering at him. He reaches over to the nightstand and replaces his glasses primly. “I’ll have you aware there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

Finally, Tim’s smile falters. “Yeah,” he says. “Uh.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Jon looks up from readjusting his undershirt. “What?” 

“So- I don’t usually do this,” Tim says, then cringes and soldiers on with, “but do you want to go out sometime? Like, to dinner, or something?” 

Jon’s face goes blank. “You’re joking,” he says flatly.  
  
“I’m not,” Tim replies, feeling vaguely queasy. “Sorry, probably not the best time to-”  
  
“Is this about the sex?” Jon is staring at him now, eyes narrowed. “I thought you liked things casual-” 

“It’s not! About, the sex, it’s about _ you, _ okay? We could not do the sex again for, fucking, a hundred years and I still want to go out at least once, just, I want to try it. Can we? Try it? I know this is backwards.” Tim grimaces, nearly drags his hand across his face until he remembers it’s still sticky. “God, you’re so fucking _ suspicious. _” 

Jon looks away, frowning, and Tim is ready to watch him get dressed haphazardly and storm off in a huff, until he says, “Fine.” 

“Fine? Fine, what?” 

“I’ll take you out, Tim, fine.” He glances over, irritable. 

Tim can’t help gawking for a second. “Sorry, you’ll take _ me _ out?” 

“Well, _ obviously, _” Jon replies testily. “I’ve got to show you a good time, it’s only fair.” 

“Right.” Tim rolls onto his back, processing this. “I… Okay. Sounds good. I’m, free next Friday night.” 

“Brilliant,” Jon says, as if that is the end of it. Tim thinks about it, and realizes he’s relieved that it can be.  
  
“Lovely,” he says.   
  
“Yes. Can I use your shower?” 

“If you can walk,” Tim snorts. He’s still not too confident in trying it himself. 

There is a pause. Then he can feel the weight shift on the mattress, and Jon settling heavily against his side. “This is only for a minute,” he insists. “I’m not sleeping like this. We’re disgusting.” 

“Just a minute,” Tim echoes. “Ten-four.” He thinks he might be grinning again. 

“God, you’re intolerable,” Jon mutters, and kisses him on the cheek. 

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me over at my [nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/naughtical_nbd) if you enjoyed this one! Feedback always appreciated.


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